


He May Feel Exulansis, But I Feel True Love

by FandomTrash



Series: gross percico cousin incest au that literally nobody asked for [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Consensual Underage Sex, Cousin Incest, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Onesided Jasico, Onesided Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace, Percy knows and fucking hates Jason for it, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Underage Kissing, Underage Sex, You're So Very Fucking Welcome, because jason likes nico not cus nico likes jason or anything, i hate myself i need to stop this fucking trainwreck.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrash/pseuds/FandomTrash
Summary: Niccolò di Angelo/Nico/Love/My Moon/The Almighty Pomegranate Consumer:noun -The reason I'm alive, the reason I try at anything, the reason for me to believe that there are stars in the sky. Right among them is him, the moon that pulls it all together, that drives my tides reckless. The taste of smuggles liquor from his father's study, the gleam of rebellion in his eyes and the whispers of a better tomorrow on his pearly teeth. The reminder of the fact that I am but only a bag of bones at his feet, a meaningless reputation of locker-lined corridors in the face of his darling smiles and fleeting touches.





	He May Feel Exulansis, But I Feel True Love

**Author's Note:**

> Exulansis:  
> The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.

It's always fun visiting our cousin Jason in the summer. Away from New York, away from everybody who knows us. Down in California, nobody knows anything. They don't know me and Nico are cousins, they don't know that our love is of a deeper level. Whoever said 'blood is thicker than water' is fucking wrong. (And yes, I do understand that the full saying is 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb', meaning that bonds formed by choice are better than bonds formed by family, but they're still fucking wrong.)

So, understandably, it's better down in California sometimes. I can hold Nico's hand, lace our fingers like the intertwining of the vertebrae in his back, have him close to me without the annoyance of somebody wrinkling their nose at us. Nobody knows, and it's so much better than them knowing. Down here, with the palm trees and the pretty sparkling waves on violet evenings, I can have him recline against me and lick at my neck like he loves to do with nobody commenting other than, “Aww dude, get a room!” Even then, it doesn't happen often.

They don't know that Nico's father is my uncle, they don't know that Nico is indeed my cousin. They don't notice the similarities between us – from thick black hair that is a tangle of waves and curls to the subtle bump on our noses, the gentle overlapping of our front teeth (though Nico pulls it off far more adorably than I can ever dream of,) - don't care to look, since all they see is two boys holding hands, smiling in what can be brushed off as summer romance. It's better. For the most part, they're not disgusted at the idea that I fuck Nico so hard that his thighs quake, pale skin flushed and shining with sweat as pretty melodies fall from his lips in shattered messes. Only the homophobic, but I could care less about them.

I love being away from home. Nobody has to know us as Percy Jackson and Nico di Angelo, sons of the two most dangerous brothers in their professions in New York. Here, I can have Nico laze against me on Jason's bed as he lazily tacks away on that computer of his in the summer heat. And, bonus, Jason isn't agitated about us either. Nico muses to me about it sometimes, back home, with pure oblivious, confused expressions.

He doesn't know that Jason wishes to be in my place.

I'm not going to be the one to tell him.

So he remains in the dark, and on the worst of days I feel a little guilty for not telling Nico, for the most of it I'd rather he never know. That's the downside to being in California with Jason. To have to deal with the blond's staring – jealous – whenever I duck down and press a chaste kiss to Nico's cheek, or run a hand down his side to rest on his waist. But he never says anything, oddly. You'd think he would; being so obvious with his feelings for Nico, but. It's strange, and I don't care to dwell on the topic of Jason for more than this.

Nico's weight on me is comforting, his dozing breaths calm against my neck, of where he rests. He's asleep right now; it's all he ever really does around midday – too hot for his thin, fragile body to do anything else. Idly, I make a mental note to go out and buy my lover a cola later. A glass bottled one, if I can find one. He has a thing for those; likes the condensation dampening his smooth palms. Though, I'll never complain; a bottle of cola always brings his image together, like a final puzzle piece slotted into place.

For now, one of my hands rests heavily on the back of his head, cradling him almost, as he mutters incoherently in his sleep. It's adorable and endearing, and I know there's more than just my eyes on our younger cousin. Glancing up – reluctantly so – I find Jason's blue eyes glued to the bow of Nico's spine, the way his boyish little hips are elevated from how he's slot one of my legs between his own. He likes curling around the length of my body; so that he can nuzzle to my pulse and ensure my warmth at all costs. I remember Nico blushing when he explained it to me, when we were still new to whatever this clusterfuck has blossomed into.

“Like what you see?” I tease, smirking cruelly as Jason's face blooms red. He jerkily removes his gaze from Nico, staring at me with a mixture of negative emotions. Just to fuck with him, I move my right hand to drum fingers lightly against Nico's side, just to watch him try to bite back a snarl, just to watch his hands curl tightly around the fraying arms of his leather desk chair. “No,” Jason grits out.

I glower at him for that. How _fucking dare he_ think he can just bluntly say that about my Nico. The boy reclined against me is a fucking god, and if this fucker over on his stupid swivel chair thinks he can just _lie_ and deny what's so clearly in front of him, then he's got hell coming his way. “Liar,” I snort, easily fixing my face back into a languid, smug-looking smirk.

Jason seethes through his teeth, before fixing me with angry blue eyes. (Nico's never had a thing for vibrantly blue eyes. I find sick pride in the fact that it's one chip away from Jason's chances of ever getting him.) “You're disgusting,” He utters, eyes flicking from me to our youngest cousin, “Parading him around like he's some – some _trophy_.” Quirking an eyebrow, I sit up a little. Nico hums, shifting subconsciously to plop himself in my lap and lean against my front. This only seems to make Jason madder, to my amusement.

“Wouldn't you do the same thing? At least he likes the idea of me fucking him.” Jason flinches at that, and okay, maybe that was a little too harsh, but I don't care. Jason's an asshole. Yeah, I agree with myself, Golden Boy can be a huge stick up the ass when he wants to be.

The beautiful bundle of everything I live for shifts a little more, eyebrows furrowing as his chapped lips are pronounced in a pout. Nico's starting to wake up. Placatingly, I brush one hand up and down his back, resting my chin on his head; it's how he likes waking up. Warmth radiating around him, my neck right there for him to kiss before he pulls away.

Still have a few minutes before then, though.

So, until then, I find gross joy in picking at Jason's seams. “Why are you always so... _like that?_ ” He asks, agitation rolling off his tongue unattractively. It makes another smile paint my mouth, nose nuzzled against Nico's scalp as I breathe in petrichor and some of my cologne he likes so much. Cocking my head, I let my hand possessively curl more into Nico's hair, “Like what? Loving? Enjoying the fact that _I'm his?_ ” (Note: **I'm his**. Because I am. I may have kissed Nico all those years ago on that dark, scrabbled night when my mom was pulling a graveshift, but I'm _Nico's_. For me, Nico's not something I can just own, as possessive as I am. Nico is...he's inexplicable, indescribable, in the ways that he's his own being and can very easily snap me in half like a twig with just a few words. Rendered useless to him, to his entirety, I am only a mere drop of water in the gravitational pull of his moon, his stars.)

It's cruel, but I've never really basked in Jason's company as much as Nico does.

Nico met Jason before I did, but I met Nico before Jason, if that makes sense. I've known my loving little cousin since the day he was born, goddammit, and sure I had been three and weirded out by how those thick lashes had framed his big eyes so well for a newborn, but I'm moreso brother than cousin. Nico met Jason when he was ten, just a little before I did, but apparently that's a wide enough window for them to get all _buddy fucking buddy_ without me. So, understandably on my account, I'm not very fond of our Golden Boy.

Jason runs a stiff hand through his shiny, golden hair, teeth grit as he stares at me vehemently. Shaking his head, Jason snarls, “Like you're entitled to just stab at me every time we're in the same room! You know I like Nico, you fucking prick, and you just waltz around with your hand on his _goddamn hip_ like you can just be some sleazy fucker with a looker attached to you!” I feel somber at his statement. I feel my face sober, staring at him blankly. Ready to snap at him, I move to growl -

Nico hums softly, pressing his lips briefly to my neck as his eyelashes flutter against my skin, “Perce?” We still, me and Jason, eyes to him as we both patch over our anger in lieu of upsetting the very beauty that gets us so wound up in the first place. Sweet, loving little Nico. God, with how he blinks slowly up at me, in such an endearing way, I could shove my tongue down his throat right there. Have his spindle-fingered hands grip at the front of my chest like they always do, my arms coming down to frame his head as I rest my weight on him – he loves that, he loves how he gets pressed into the mattress as he feels the cheap bed's springs dig into his spine. He loves everything I do, and I gotta say, it's nothing short of esteem.

“Heya baby,” I coo, the hand that's in his hair stroking rhythmically in the way that has him struggling to keep his eyes open. And, of course, he bats me away lightly with that admiring little smile on his face. God I love him. Too much for my own good, too much for any sane person to comprehend. Good thing I've never dreamed of such limitations.

Jason works his jaw at me, like I'm infuriating, which I know I am, as he silently grinds his jaw in anger. It all slacks, though, in a way that makes _me_ want to throttle _him_ when Nico – naïve, unknowing Nico, the boy I love, who loved me even when I lisped with braces and kissed the scabs that formed on my knees from falling over one too many times when my mom would give me the excuse of _you're too old for kisses, now, Percy_ – asks,

“Hey Jay, you wanna come with me and Perce down to the little ice cream parlor on Fourth Street?”

Needless to explain, the fucker says yes. I feel sort of bad, I clench my hand a little too hard on his waist, making him jolt and look up at me like a kicked puppy. I pecked him lightly, apologies dripping hurriedly from my lips in seconds. I hate hurting Nico – physically, mentally, emotionally – I hate how it reminds me of so many things in our history that I'd like to forget. Specifically how much shit I gave him after Bianca left. But that's a can of worms that hasn't been opened since he was ten and I was thirteen. I intend to keep it that way.

* * *

Maybe if we get Jason to sit directly in the sun, from under the shelter of the parasol, he'll melt. Nico's content, though, so I guess I can't complain. If only they were talking about something I could fucking join in on. But _no_ , Jason had to bring up the topic of – of...hang on, let me tune in a second.

Fucking school.

“Aw, dude, sucks to be you! You know you're gonna be doing all the work in that damn group project, right?” Nico laughs, though I feel better at the fact that he's leaning against me, chocolaty breath dancing over my collarbones. It's too fucking hot, I feel like a dog sweltering because of its thick fur. Nico seems to be fairing it better, but that's because I bought him a Ben&Jerry's container of ice cream he could hug to his chest whilst he ate. Jason laughs, nodding along as he rubs his neck, something along the lines of agreement coming out. I don't care enough, I just sort of want to go back to his luxurious apartment with functioning AC's.

Then I feel Nico bump our knees under the table, eliciting a chuckle from me. Jason squints at me, barely trying to conceal the anger at me interrupting, but Nico misses it. He just grins up at me, all sly looking and adorable, as he inquires, “Y'think you can survive a few more minutes, or do you wanna start heading back?” Huffing, I shrug, leaning back with an arm over my face, “Whatever you wanna do, Nico.” Nico hums, before standing, tugging me along, “I wanna stop by Ralph's, maybe, get a bunch of junk. I chuckle, the expression dissolving into a smug smirk at Jason over Nico's head. Sure, there's only about an inch or so betwee us, but it's enough that Nico just assumes I'm looking behind me.

The outing is short-lived, but worth it, to feel his cool fingers dance on the skin of my arm later when he's devoured all of his ice cream, and now complained about cold hands to me.

* * *

Nico's talking on the phone with his dad in the other room, leaving me and Jason to sit stiffly on opposite ends of the couch. He clears his throat, but doesn't move to say anything. The sweet voice of my little love carries through the silence, anguished mutters of something that makes his voice crack pitifully, agonizingly. I'll talk when we're alone, when he's in my arms and safe and warm and loved.

I watch Jason squirm, lax against my half of the couch, one of my ankles caught on the back of the couch. He glares at me, though I pay him no intermittent mind. “About earlier,” I peruse, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his room. Those electrical eyes flick to me, almost panicky, in an amusing sort of way, “What 'bout it?” Shrugging, I sigh a little, “Well, y'know. I was being kind of a jerk.” I hear him scoff _kinda_ under his breath, with a roll of his eyes that I struggle to keep a mutual expression at, “And, well, I'm sorry. It was...uncalled for.”

I'm only doing this shit because Nico had started catching on to the stiff air between me and Jason on the way home.

If it was up to me, this stupid blond, blue eyed _attention stealing fucker_ could go fuck himself.

But I love Nico. So much, I love him so very much, and if even ground between me and Jason encourages that pleased, satisfied little smile to bloom on those deliciously chapped lips of his, then so be it. God, I love him so much. Too much. So very much. Like ocean tides to a full moon, but only the moon is always full, and the tides grow reckless. _Anything for those dark eyes on me; anything for those searing lips on mine_.

Do you know what Jason does after my apology? He fucking rolls his eyes and shrugs jerkily, jaw jutted out mulishly, almost childishly in his stubbornness to accept that fact that I can – contrary to popular belief – be the 'bigger man'. Yeah, I'm fucking mature enough to apologize for my actions, you stick in the goddamn mud, accept the fuck outta it or I'm gonna beat your ass. “Whatever, Perseus.” My eyes twitched at the name. I know he feel my cold stare on the side of his face: it shows in how he curls away from me instinctively, avoiding looking at me. Sighing – _sighing_ , not growling – I throw my head back and release a groan of agitation, “You're such a fucking child, I swear to -”

“Oh, so _I'm_ the child? I'd tell you to go look in a goddamn mirror, Jackson, but they're all cracked.” I snort at his generic insult, looking down my nose at him, “So I see you've taken to practicing your mean faces in the mirrors, then.” We pause briefly, Nico humming as he wanders into the kitchen. Reemerging, he holds a can of Pepsi in one hand, a can of Dr Pepper in the other, and he throws them at us before disappearing back into the bedroom. I chuckle softly, watching him lazily kick the door shut behind him, but the smile falls when I hear him return to his seemingly saddening conversation.

Jason sighs, much like the hiss of his drink being opened. I take my respective Pepsi, just holding it to my forehead. It's too fucking hot to go yelling at Jason for staring at my boyfriend. Opening it, I sip some coolly, closing my eyes to the welcoming sensation of near prickling liquid on my tongue, bubbles fizzing from the soda.

“You're an asshole,” Jason mutters, like it'll make me change, like it'll make me want to improve my self. I just shrug, “Go look in the mirror -” Snorting, I leer at him, “Oh wait. You fucking broke them all.” the blond looks like he wants to murder me, but I can't be bothered to deal with his bullshit again. So I just stand, and take my leave. Jason huffs at me, “As far as I remember you went to the bathroom before me.” And, as I am to always have the last word, I snicker, “I was doing things less innocent than peeing in there, Grace.”

That had been _good_ , I'll tell you that.

The sound of him spluttering as I leave the room, whilst gratifying, isn't nearly as satisfying as the fact that I _got the last goddamn word, and let me tell you:_ _**it's the best thing ever**_. I sneak into Jason's bedroom, where Nico perches on the windowsill, staring at his phone angrily. Shutting the door behind me, I step over the makeshift nest of blankets on the floor and settle myself onto Jason's cloud-themed sheets. God, can't he have anything cooler than _clouds?_ Nerd.

My thin-fingered lover doesn't react to me resting my chin on his thigh, more interested in controlling his breaths. Silence reigns for a while, but I find that I've never really minded that with just the two of us. Eventually, one of his rough-palmed hands comes to knit in my hair, scratching at the base in that way that makes me groan appreciatively. He knows I like it there. Nico knows a lot of things. So many things, so much about _me_ , about _Jason_ , about anybody. Nico's very perceptive like that.

With a sigh loud enough to be a scream to my ears, Nico grumbles, “We're going home three weeks early, Perce.” I blink owlishly at him. He repeats it, meeting my incredulous gaze. “Bullshit,” I mutter, feeling angry myself. The Pepsi can in my hand dents a little under my tight grip.

We're cut three weeks short of carefree bliss.

Three weeks I could be fucking him in some public bathroom without anybody really caring too much, because they don't know who we are, they can't hear us over the club's music, they're all so drunk they couldn't give two shits that he's my cousin and he's writhing against the cubicle's door with those pretty, broken little melodies that fall into sync with my thrusts.

Three weeks I could be letting him giggle into the night as I roam hands under those oversized shirts he so consciously wears, nipping lightly at where his jaw becomes his neck, just below his ear, feel the intesnse gaze of Jason glowering at me as I smirk at him over Nico's head, feeling the glory that comes with being able to hold Nico and know he's _mine_ , mine forever, until I die, until he dies, until the world falls to shit and I have nobody but him to turn to.

Three weeks gone.

Three weeks I could be enjoying the anonymity of our beings in California.

Bullshit. Utter fucking bullshit, I want to have stern words with Nico's father and tell him to shove knives up his ass. The hand in my hair stills, trembling with whatever anger the own is trying to hold back. As I look to my lover, I find him avoiding my gaze, opting to glower out to the sun through the window. I sip my Pepsi with feigned leisure closing my eyes to the sound of his leveled breathing. “Well, we've still got a week, at least,” He mutters to me, ever the simplistically pretty daisy in the dead field. Nodding, I breathe heavily through my nose, “That's very true, Nico.”

Nico gives this amused, faint sound, and I can't help but look up to it with meager interest. He looks breathtaking in the golden backdrop of the window. The sun casts a shock of white to the half of him away from me, his pale skin blistering in a way that reminds me that _no_ , _no, he's not quite all there, is he?_ Because he not, he is far away and close all the same and so powerful in the way that so many I know and don't bend to his will, snap their spines for him in inhumane ways, but so vulnerable in the way that he curls against me, that I can feel the chill that seeps to his bones and the fizzy cola that runs through his veins.

His dark hair is only all the more darker in the way that the light filters over the curls and the waves. The light on his skin blocks all distinguishable features on that side of his face but his eyes, of which will never cave to the sheer of light. They're so, so very dark as they bore into me, eyelashes casting long shadows on his cheekbones. Interstellar blooms to mind, but is dismissed with the idea that I know that's not the right word. Divine, is another word, though I find that if I am to use that, I'd change it to divinity or deity. That's what he is, to me.

And Jason doesn't see it like that, I know he doesn't, and that's what sets us apart. If he...understood what I see in Nico, caught grasp of what lie beneath layers of monochrome, then maybe I'd – maybe I'd consider it. Letting him closer, letting Jason breathe in the meanings under the acrimonious words that Nico hisses when he's mad. But he doesn't. And that's why I hate him, among many, so fucking much.

* * *

“Do you think that maybe we can live here one day?” Nico asks me, breathless, skin flushed. I blink up at him, his skin so hot under my fingers, breath heavy against the seam of his thigh to his hip. I quick an eyebrow, voice low as I murmur against his heated flesh, “You wanna live here?” He nods, and I feel his knee twitch against where it's resting against my side when I move to lap softly near his throbbing arousal. I feel a smile curl at the reaction, at the breathy whine.

Mulling it over, I kiss his tip – red, shiny, pretty pearls of precum dribbling messily against his stomach. “Then we will, one day,” I promise, pulling my self up to hover above him, arms bracketing his head as he blinks at me lazily. Dark eyes filmed over with lust, lips parted and kiss-bruised, so very pretty and beyond compare. A smile tugs lightly at the line of his mouth, “Yeah?” I mash our mouths together again, hand roaming to tug harshly at one of those rosy nipples. He yelps, hand flying to the back of my head, gripping tightly; his hips roll against mine, stuttered moan being drank up by my mouth. “If that's what you want.”

Nico giggles lightly, and that seems to be my tipping point before I groan loudly, uncaring if Jason can hear us from where he's sleeping in the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Was alternatively going to be named _He May Feel Exulansis, But From Within The Arms Of My Lover, I Don't Care_ , but that didn't work out. Too long. But yeah, back to Percy being 19, Nico being 16, so UNDERAGE tag is back up. Gotta love our incestual lil' brats. I love this idea too much, I need to stop. Jfc.


End file.
